


Finding Peace

by inquisitorsmabari



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitorsmabari/pseuds/inquisitorsmabari
Summary: Lavellan seeks to find peace away from her party and the stresses of her job, and finds it in a small glade in the Emerald Graves.





	Finding Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Briarfox13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briarfox13/gifts).



> This was one of my giveaway prizes, this time for briarfox13.tumblr.com who has a very sweet Lavellan who likes to make flowers for her hairy boy

It was her means of escape, literally. Walking away from wherever her party had decided to camp to find a quiet spot away from prying eyes, the eyes of those who called her Herald or Inquisitor or anything other than the name her parents gave her. She would find somewhere to sit, somewhere quiet, and find something to do, something to keep her hands busy.

It wasn't that she hated her companions, far from it. She loved their company, and travelling with Blackwall, her Blackwall, was like travelling with a ray of sunshine. He always had a smile for her, sometimes a laugh, or a brush of his hand against hers. She was always at ease with her friends, but even more so when he was there. It was just the rest of it she liked to escape from. All the formality, the titles, the responsibility, the lives on her hands.

She searched the glade she had found herself in, her eyes scanning the plush green grass, the large, knotted roots of the imposing trees, the mushrooms, vines, clusters of flowers which flourished on the fertile ground. _Flowers_. She rushed over to the largest cluster of delicate, white flowers that had bloomed in a single patch of grass positioned on the receiving end of a rather spectacular ray of dazzling, golden sunshine. Daisies, hundreds of them, perhaps. It was perfect.

She began to work straight away, sitting at the edge of the cluster with her legs crossed and her fingers working away at the stems, threading them through one another with an ease only exhibited by experts. As she worked, the chain of flowers getting longer and longer as it fell into her lap, her mind cleared. The overgrown graveyard, that even now bore the scars of war, had been their home for some days, but the ghosts of its past continued to dog her, sneering at her as she brought violence to their place of rest. But this simple act, a craft that her family had drilled into her from infancy, it cleansed her, brought her back to a place of sanctity, tranquillity, peace.

She didn't even notice that she was being watched. That is, until she did.

It became a game for her, seeing how long she could keep her head down, her gaze focused on the flowers in her lap as she continued to work on her craft. She kept her focus on the delicate threading of stem through stem until she couldn't hold on any longer, and she fell into a cackling fit of hysterical laughter.

“Did you really think I couldn't see you?” She giggled, drawing her gaze to the edge if the glade where Blackwall stood with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes wide with wonder as he watched her with a smile hidden by a mountain of hair.

“I hoped,” He marched on over to where she sat with large thundering strides, disturbing the peace of the world around her. “You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you.”

“Well now I've been disturbed,” She told him, smirking at him beneath loose strands of soft orange hair. “Happy?”

“Always,” He smiled, planting himself down on the soft grass next to her and enveloping her with his warm, strong arms which snaked around her shoulders as she continued to work. “But I’m a little jealous.”

“Jealous?” She asked, looking up at him with a curious air. “Of what?”

“I could never make anything as pretty as that,” He said, taking the chain of daisies in his large hands and very carefully casting his surprisingly delicate fingers over the tiny flower petals.

“Let me show you!” She cried, throwing a bunch of picked flowers into his lap. “It’s easy!”

“It is?”

“Yes!” She said, gathering a fresh daisy with a long stem that she slid elegantly through the tiny hole she’d made in the daisy at the end of her chain. “See?”

“Hmm,” He muttered, looking down at delicate flowers that looked so tiny in his large hands. “Like this?” He pressed his thumb into the tiny stem, but it quickly broke, the stem collapsing into two as he elicited an exasperated sigh.

“Now you’re ruining perfectly good flowers,” She sighed, looking at the discarded flowers at his feet, which looked very sad as they lay with their broken stems and crooked petals. She simply couldn’t stand to see nature so spoilt, but she also couldn’t stand to see the frown on Blackwall’s face, his pout partially hidden by his mass of black facial hair. “I know what we can do,” She said with a smile, turning back to her chain of flowers with a resolute expression.

“What’s that?” He asked, but she didn’t need to answer, not with words. All she did was reach up and place the newly made crown of daisies on the mass of jet black hair that adorned his head. “How do I look?” He asked. He looked, well, ridiculous. But in a good way, a way that brought not just a smile to her face, but a laugh to the still silence of the glade.

“Well, we match,” She said, indicating to the wreath of bright, blooming flowers that adorned her head, the dash of spring colour vibrant against the soft burnt orange of her hair. It was her favourite, it matched her glowing green eyes so well that she may never feel the need to wear anything else. But now it had its counterpart, a fairly sloppy counterpart, admittedly, but it worked

“Does it suit me?” He chuckled, his hand touching the top of his head gingerly as he searched for her gift amidst the thick black hair.

“There’s something missing,” She mused, her eyebrows furrowing as she scrutinised his hair, his face, his beard. “I know!” She cried, reaching into the small pile of daisies he had discarded, the ones with the broken stems and the wonky petals. With a delicate hand, she reached up, and planted them in his beard one by one, so that his face now housed its own personal daisy garden.

“Sera’s going to love this,” He laughed, shaking his head at the ground.

“Oh she will!” She giggled, collapsing into his lap with a sigh as she looked up at the canopy of trees above their heads, the cacophony of greens and yellows intersected with the brilliant blue of the spring sky that had accompanied them on their journey through the Emerald Graves. She had to admit, it was a beautiful place, beautiful considering how violent its past had been. And, despite herself, she felt at peace here, collapsed beneath the tall trees with a cluster of daisies flourishing around her. “This is so peaceful.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shutting out the dazzling rays of sunlight that pierced the thick blanket of leaves above their head.

“Yeah, it is.” His words escaping into a heavy sigh which merged into the delicate blend of rustling leaves and chirping insects that filled the silence around them.

Peace was wonderful, when you found it.


End file.
